49 - The Weight Of Empty Promises

It was the first weekend in a long time where everything felt almost normal.

Ezra had even promised to leave his phone behind—no buzzing, no work texts invading his mind.

His sandalwood-and-spice scent mingled softly in the air, grounding the house like a calm tide.

The twins had named every duck they planned to feed by the pond.

Mia, on the other hand, had rolled her eyes and muttered something about “childish nonsense,” but she’d still packed a mystery novel and a blanket big enough for five.

Even Sebastian was humming.

He’d been up before sunrise, moving with quiet efficiency.

His delicate fingers folded tiny triangular sandwiches, sliced fruit into neat star shapes, and laid out juice boxes next to a stack of matching sun hats.

His small waist was hidden beneath a cozy sweatshirt, but Ezra caught the way his breath caught when the twins scrambled near.

When Ezra stumbled into the kitchen, barefoot and still heavy with sleep, Sebastian looked up from where he stood slicing strawberries, sleepy warmth pooling in his brown eyes.

The early light caught in his curls, and he smelled like lavender and cinnamon toast.

“You promised us a real day,” Sebastian murmured, voice low and husky with affection.

Ezra’s lips curved, slow and possessive. “You’re getting it, Omega.”

Sebastian’s lashes fluttered slightly at the word, a flush rising to his cheeks as he ducked his head—but not before Ezra caught the small, pleased smile tugging at his mouth.

Ezra moved behind him on autopilot, reaching for the coffee pot, but instead of pouring a cup, he paused.

His eyes dropped to the curve of Sebastian’s neck, exposed above the soft collar of his sweatshirt. He leaned in—just to kiss his temple, he told himself but his nose lingered.

Then dipped lower.

Sebastian froze. His fingers paused mid-slice, the blade clinking softly against the cutting board.

Ezra’s breath hitched as he pressed his nose to the crook of Seb’s neck. He inhaled. Deeply. A sound left his chest, low and involuntary, almost a growl of contentment.

Sebastian’s lips parted on a quiet exhale.

Ezra nuzzled deeper, mouthing at the warmth of Sebastian’s scent gland. And then—

A nip.

Not brutal, not claiming—but unmistakable. Possessive.

Sebastian gasped, his thighs clenching. “Ez…”

Ezra blinked, like waking from a trance. His mouth still hovered at Seb’s neck, lips brushing tenderly over the spot he’d just marked. “Yes, love?”

Sebastian turned just enough to meet his eyes. His expression was gentle but serious. “You’re scenting me.”

Ezra looked confused. “I was just—”

“You nipped me, Ez.” Seb’s voice lowered, soft and laced with something aching. “Your rut’s coming.”

Ezra stared at him, blinking slowly. “That’s not— I haven’t had a rut in years.” He rubbed his jaw, suddenly restless. “Not even with Clara.”

Sebastian’s eyes searched his face. “You really haven’t noticed?”

He set the knife down and folded his arms, trying to keep some distance, some clarity. “Ezra, you growled at Felix yesterday. All he did was compliment Mia’s science project.”

Ezra opened his mouth, defensive. “He was smirking.”

“He was smiling.”

Ezra's jaw tensed.

“And you snapped at the twins for clinging to me after their bath,” Sebastian added quietly.

“You’ve been more territorial than usual—and your scent is heavier. Sharper. I woke up craving it like it’s oxygen.” His eyes dropped for a second. “Like I want to be bred.”

Ezra’s pupils blew wide.

A soft, guttural sound left him. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in again, mouth brushing Seb’s neck, and murmured, “I do want to breed you.”

Sebastian trembled under the breath of those words. But his hand rose, firm against Ezra’s chest. “Ez. Don’t.”

Ezra stopped, barely breathing.

Sebastian tilted his head, curls falling into his eyes. “You already have someone pregnant, Ez. I don’t think you can handle two.”

Ezra stepped back slightly like he'd been slapped. “That’s not fair.”

Sebastian touched his wrist gently. “We’ll talk about it later. After the rut. When you’re clearer.”

Ezra didn’t move. Just stared at him, like the room had tilted off-center. Like his skin didn’t fit right.

Then Seb’s fingers traced the faint red spot where Ezra’s teeth had grazed him. His expression sobered. “I need you to get me a collar.”

Ezra’s brows furrowed, lips parting in stunned silence. “A collar?”

“Something simple,” Sebastian said softly. “We need scent barriers. If you rut and mark me, even by accident…”

Ezra’s scent spiked—spice and heat and something raw beneath it. He took a step forward, helpless to stop the way his body responded. “You don’t want me to mark you?”

Sebastian’s breath hitched. He wrinkled his nose, trying to fight the wave of Alpha pheromones rising between them. “Stop that,” he said, voice strained.

Ezra didn’t move.

Sebastian’s voice sharpened slightly. “You won’t even claim me in public, Ez. You don’t want the neighbors thinking we’re together, but now you want me to walk around with your mark on my neck? For what? So I can get branded during rut and then be ignored after?”

Ezra flinched. He turned his face away, jaw flexing.

Sebastian’s voice wavered. “If you mark me without permission during rut, who do you think will suffer the emotional fallout? Who’s going to be begging for affection after, sobbing because his Alpha went back to pretending it meant nothing?”

Ezra was quiet for a long time.

Finally, he nodded once, slowly. “Okay. I’ll get the collar.”

He didn’t say I want to. Didn’t say I’m sorry.

He just agreed—because saying anything more felt like admitting something he wasn’t ready to name.

Clara emerged barefoot from her room like a wounded queen, hair wild, one hand protectively cupping her belly.

“Ezra.”

The name landed heavy in the quiet kitchen. Her scent—sharp, metallic with pregnancy—threaded through the air like a warning.

Ezra, crouched to tie Camden’s shoe, looked up, brows drawn. His sandalwood scent sharpened. “What is it?”

“I think I’m having contractions,” she whispered, voice trembling with practiced fragility.

From the hall, Mia’s omega voice cut through, brittle. “She’s six months pregnant.”

Clara staggered forward. “Something’s wrong. I need to go to the hospital. Please.”

Sebastian paused mid-slice, red tomato juice bleeding down his fingers. His lavender scent, usually soft, now trembled with tension.

Ezra stood. “Are you sure?”

Clara met his gaze, eyes wet and wide. “Would I lie about something like this?”

Yes, Sebastian thought. Absolutely.

But Ezra hesitated. His scent flickered with guilt.

The picnic basket sat untouched. The twins clutched their juice boxes, unsure.

Caleb whispered, “We were gonna see the ducks.”

Camden’s Alpha frustration flared. “I wanna go now.”

Sebastian crouched beside them. “We still can. Just us. It'll be fun.”

But they looked past him. To Ezra.

Ezra rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll catch up. Just… take them, Seb.”

The words landed like a slap. Sebastian swallowed the ache and nodded.

Mia stepped forward, her citrus scent sharp. “You’re really going with her?”

Clara drew herself up, serene and smug. “Forgive him for wanting to protect the baby growing inside me.”

Mia’s voice cracked. “You’re not even in pain. You just don’t want him with us.”

Clara’s smile was knife-sharp. “I’m pregnant with your sibling. Maybe learn some respect.”

Ezra opened his mouth—closed it.

And Clara turned, victorious.

In the car, silence. Ezra gripped the wheel, scent tight with stress. Clara let out a soft moan and leaned her head against the window like a fragile painting in a too-bright gallery.

He’d seen that look before. Years ago.

Back in college, when they first met, Clara had made him feel like the center of the universe. She was always touching him—his chest, his back, his thigh under the table. She kissed him like he was air and she was drowning.

But when the adrenaline faded, so did the affection.

“You’re distant,” she used to say. “You’re cold. Why don’t you want me the way I want you?”

Once, he’d driven three hours to surprise her on a random Tuesday, only to find her crying because he hadn’t brought flowers.

“I didn’t ask you to come,” she’d said coldly. “Showing up doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know how to love me.”

He remembered staring at her then, gutted. Wondering if he was truly broken.

He never felt like enough. Not for her. Not for anyone.

Except Seb.

Seb, who never asked for grand gestures. Who only wanted his presence. His softness. His time.

Ezra blinked out of the memory. Clara whimpered again, too perfectly.

Ezra didn’t flinch.

He was just tired now.

At the park, Sebastian sat alone on the blanket, scent dampened with sadness.

The twins fed ducks in silence. Mia lay on her stomach, picking at the edge of the blanket.

“You okay?” Sebastian asked, voice soft.

“Why’d he go?” she mumbled.

Sebastian didn’t answer.

“I hate her,” Mia muttered. “I hate him sometimes too.”

Sebastian's heart clenched. “Me too.”

Ezra returned as dusk settled.

The house felt colder.

“She’s fine,” he said quietly.

Mia didn’t look up. “Of course she is.”

“She felt dizzy, the doctor—”

“No one cares.” She stood, bitter citrus in the air. “You missed everything.”

Ezra looked to Sebastian, standing with arms crossed, scent tense and hurting.

“Seb—”

“Don’t,” Sebastian said. “You never know what to do. That’s the problem.”

Ezra sank onto the couch, overwhelmed. “She said I’m neglecting her. That I’ll be a terrible father.”

Sebastian let out a dry, bitter laugh. “And did you believe her?”

Ezra didn’t respond.

Sebastian walked away.

That night, Clara stood by the window, curtain fluttering behind her like a veil.

“You played him,” Sebastian said from the hallway, voice low.

She turned, a tired smirk on her lips. “I’m pregnant. I needed help.”

“You needed an audience.”

“He’s the father of my child.”

“You don’t love him.”

Clara tilted her head. “Love’s overrated. Ezra’s safe.”

“You’re going to hurt him.”

She stepped closer. “Isn’t he hurting you?”

Sebastian froze.

Clara’s voice softened, cruel. “Thought so.”

And Sebastian, standing in that dim hallway, didn’t deny it.

Because she was right.

Ezra was hurting him.

And he didn’t know how much more he could take.